Page 113 of The Reboot
Finally he pulled back, swiping at his eyes. ‘You don’t have to move out.’ He sniffed. ‘I’m not going to make you homeless.’
She smiled sadly. ‘I think I do. It’d be awkward as fuck living here now – for both of us. Anyway, I won’t be homeless.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I can go back to my mum’s for now. They’ll be home in a couple of weeks anyway.’
‘I guess you should go, then, if you’re going.’ He sounded angry again.
She nodded, but she didn’t move, reluctant to leave him like this. ‘Are you okay?’
He gave her an awful look – hard and hateful – and she flinched. ‘No, I’m not okay. How the fuck do you imagine I’d be okay?’
‘Sorry.’ She got up and took her phone from her bag, but still hesitated, looking down at him. He seemed so sad and desolate.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I won’t let you screw up my life more than you already have.’
She swallowed hard and called a taxi with her phone app. ‘Maybe you should call someone? Your mum maybe? Or Charlie – I’m sure he’d come over if you asked him to.’
‘Christ, why are you still here? Please just go!’
‘I just don’t think you should be alone right now.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He sniffed, digging the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looked up at her. ‘I’ll call Pippa.’
She nodded, clenching her jaw, struggling not to react. He was being deliberately cruel, hitting out at her, and he had every right to. She deserved it. She just had to take it, let him rage at her as much as he wanted. What did it matter? It was over between them now anyway. If he needed to hate her to feel better, then so be it.
‘Good idea,’ she said softly, swallowing down tears as she picked up her suitcases.
‘I’ll take those.’ He got up from the bed.
‘It’s okay, I can manage.’
Wordlessly he took them from her anyway and she followed him downstairs. He dropped her bags by the door.
‘Thanks.’ She fished the house keys out of her pocket and held them out to him. ‘I’ll have to come back for the rest of my stuff.’
‘Keep those, then. You can let yourself in.’
‘Okay.’ Her mobile pinged. ‘My cab’s here.’ She picked up her bags. ‘Thanks, Roly – for everything.’ She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cold, taut cheek. There was so much more she wanted to say, but she knew he wouldn’t want to hear it.
He nodded, swallowing hard. When she looked up at him through her lashes, his eyes were wet with tears.
Roly opened the door for her. The taxi was standing outside, its engine running. He stood in the doorway and she walked to the gate without looking back, praying he’d say something, have one last word for her. But he was silent as she left his house – and his life – for the last time. So many times she’d said goodbye to him and walked away, thinking she wouldn’t see him again. This time she knew it really was the end. And he didn’t even say goodbye.
30
Roly had never wanteda drink so badly, or a hit of something. He wanted the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the soft burn as it slid down his throat. He craved the sweet, soporific release of opiates or the energising surge of coke through his veins. He had that old feeling of needing to destroy everything, starting with himself. The urge to go out and score was so strong, he couldn’t sit still. He picked up the phone and called Tim, his sponsor. As he listened to the ring tone, he told himself that if Tim didn’t answer, he’d go out to a bar and get a drink – just one. It was a throw of the dice, out of his hands. He wouldn’t be responsible. He looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. Tim had a young baby. He was probably asleep by now. He’d just let it ring one more time…
‘You okay, mate?’ Tim’s voice was thick with sleep.
‘No.’ Roly gulped, tears of relief and gratitude springing to his eyes. It never ceased to move him that a virtual stranger would do this for him; that he’d always be there at the end of the phone ready to save him over and over, however many times he needed saving. ‘I need to talk. Is that okay?’
‘Of course. Any time – you know that. You want me to come over?’
‘No. It’s late. We can just chat on the phone.’ He sank to the floor, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall as he let Tim talk him down from the edge.
He felt better after they hung up – calmer, more rational, no longer craving the escape into drink or drugs. But he still wanted to see someone. He couldn’t deal with being alone right now. He thumbed through his phone and dialled Pippa.
